Мистер Камень. Анна Ольховская
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By the time she’d satisfied her curiosity, she’d aroused him to the point that his breathing was rapid, his voice guttural. “No more play. Come here.”
She thought about refusing, at least for a while, but knew she didn’t have the willpower, because all that touching, kissing and caressing that had aroused him had had the same effect on her. She was hot and achy, and she needed him, please, just once more.
She knew the moment she took him inside her that neither of them were going to last long, and she was right. The duration was short, the intensity killing.
Long after it was over, she found the strength to lift herself away from him. She pressed a kiss to his jaw, then bonelessly sank down to lie beside him.
She wasn’t sure exactly when she fell asleep—right away, she thought—but it seemed like mere minutes until he was shaking her awake. “Hallie?”
“Hmm.” She blindly reached for him and realized he was dressed again. She forced her eyes open and saw that the lamp nearest the door was on and he was, indeed, dressed and ready to go. She felt a twinge of disappointment that he wasn’t going to stick around to wake up, maybe get some breakfast, maybe make love again. Next time—
She cut off that thought the instant it formed. There wasn’t likely to be a next time. She’d already gotten so much more than she’d expected when she approached him in the bar Thursday night. She should be grateful for it and not hoping for even more.
“I’ve got to get home.”
“Oh.” She raised up on one arm, then shoved her hair from her face. She imagined she looked pretty darn scary without makeup, her hair standing on end and after only a few hours sleep. “Okay.”
At least he was telling her. She’d awakened Friday morning to cold sheets and nothing to suggest that he’d even been there besides her incredible sense of satisfaction.
As she scooted to sit up with the sheet tucked under her arms, he sat down next to her. Looking seriously intense, he threaded his fingers through her hair, tilted her head back and simply looked at her. When moments passed and he didn’t say anything, she smiled awkwardly. “Thank you.”
His mouth twitched as if he might smile, but he didn’t. Instead, he leaned forward and gently kissed her. “It was my pleasure.”
Releasing her, he stood up and crossed to the door in three strides. He glanced back at her and finally did smile, just a little.
And then he was gone.
Sunday was just like every other Sunday in Brady’s life for the past fourteen years—long and empty. He worked his usual every-other-weekend shift, did his usual chores and still had plenty of time to brood. Every time he’d left the sheriff’s department, it had taken all the determination he could muster to stop himself from driving through the motel parking lot to see if the California Mercedes was gone.
Too bad he hadn’t had that much strength last night.
He’d never been proud of the women-and-sex aspect of his life, but this time he felt particularly despicable. If he could learn how to live without occasional sex, female companionship or human contact, he would. Hell, if he could learn to open up to a woman, he would do that, too. But life had taught him a few lessons too well ever to forget them, the first of which was that the safest way to live was alone.
Even if alone was sometimes pretty damn miserable.
So damn miserable this time that he was grateful to see Monday and what promised to be a long, busy work week roll around.
He hadn’t had any experience in law enforcement when he’d walked into the department and applied for a deputy’s job over six years ago. He’d been hired in part because the salary was so low most people couldn’t afford to work there, but also because Reese had been willing to take a chance on him. He’d been surprised by how much he liked the job and by how good he was at it. He’d advanced quickly to undersheriff, and wouldn’t likely go any higher. The only job left to aspire to was sheriff, and Reese wasn’t going anywhere. But that was all right. Work was one aspect of his life that he wouldn’t change if he could.
After a morning spent on the paperwork Jace had warned him about, he picked up his Stetson from the filing cabinet and stopped by the dispatcher’s desk. “I’m going to lunch, Wilda.”
She waved her hand idly without looking up from her magazine. She was a good dispatcher and was less likely to miss work than any other department employee besides him, but she wasn’t the friendliest of people. Some of the deputies complained, but it suited him just fine.
He left the department, located on the first floor of the Canyon County Courthouse, and stood for a moment in the shade of an old oak. Buffalo Plains was a nice town—not big enough ever to get crowded, but large enough to provide everything a person needed. If there was something you absolutely couldn’t find, Tulsa was only an hour to the east, Oklahoma City about the same distance to the southwest. In six years, he’d made fewer than a half dozen trips to Tulsa and none to OKC.
After crossing the park alongside the courthouse, he walked half a block east to the sandwich shop. Eating alone in a restaurant was one of the hardest things he’d had to learn to do after his marriage ended. Even now, it didn’t come easily. Most days he went to the Dairy King for a burger and fries, and on really slow days he’d go home. Today, though, a quick sandwich seemed best.
He got a roast beef sandwich, a bag of chips and a soft drink, then headed for an empty table. Just as he set his tray down, he happened to glance at the woman sitting by herself at the next table, and for a moment he froze.
Hallie Madison gazed back at him. After a moment, she waggled her fingers in a wave.
“What are you doing here?” he asked brusquely.
“Having lunch.”
“You were supposed to go home yesterday.”
She shook her head. “My mother and my sisters left yesterday. I’m staying awhile.”
“How long?”
Wariness slipped into her expression. “Do you want to have this conversation from over there, or would you like to join me?”
It was a toss-up, he admitted sourly. He damn sure didn’t want the other diners to listen in, but he also didn’t want to share her table, not when he wasn’t sure he could look her in the eye. But he picked up the tray and moved it to her table, then slid onto the bench opposite her. First thing he did was bump her feet, then bang his knee on the table’s center leg.
“How long?” he asked again once he was settled.
“At least three weeks. I’m overseeing the construction on Neely and Reese’s house.”
Three weeks. Damn. He never would have gone near her or her motel Saturday night if he’d known that. He’d thought she was leaving. He’d thought he wouldn’t see her again. He’d thought…
His jaw tightened. He’d thought he would take what he wanted from her, then say goodbye and forget her.
“Why didn’t you tell me that?” he asked as he unwrapped his sandwich.